


One Prize I'd Cheat To Win

by Accal1a



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Alive, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quentin Coldwater's Canonical Oral Fixation, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29089575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accal1a/pseuds/Accal1a
Summary: Quentin and Eliot have a heart to heart about Quentin's past.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63
Collections: It Always Leads to You





	One Prize I'd Cheat To Win

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the **Queliot Evermore Event** organised by the wonderful people over [here](https://queliotevents.tumblr.com/).

_Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark  
Show me the places where the others gave you scars_

~~~

Quentin found the soft moments that he spent with Eliot were ones that made is heart almost _hurt_. Laying there, his head resting on Eliot's chest, Eliot's hands carding through his hair in that quiet moment after their passionate lovemaking was sometimes painful. He wasn't even really sure why…

…or rather he did know why, but he was categorically ignoring it. The last round of therapy had heavily focused on his inner thoughts specifically around worth and he wasn't ready to—

"You're thinking really loudly." Eliot said softly. "You okay?"

_As if that wasn't a loaded fucking question._

"I'm fi—" Quentin started, but didn't he always say he was fine? Didn't he always deflect when someone asked him that question? Didn't he owe it to the man he loved to be honest?

"I'm…I don't know." Quentin finally said into the silence.

The fact that Eliot waited for him to speak further, hadn't called him out on his lie was testament to how wonderful the man was, how much he supported him, how much he loved _him_ , and that was somehow too much…and wasn't that the problem?

When Eliot felt a drop of water hit his chest he pulled Quentin closer, holding him in his embrace until Quentin wanted to talk more, until he had stopped crying and felt strong enough to continue. He could have pulled away slightly, forced Quentin to look up into his eyes and talk, but with how fragile his boyfriend was he didn't want to push. That wouldn't be kind or fair to him. Eliot would hold him all day if necessary. He would always do whatever he could to minimise Quentin's distress.

"It's just—" Quentin continued, sniffing. "I'm really happy." He paused. "And I love you."

Eliot smiled, squeezing Quentin for a second before letting him go. "I love you too, Q. You know that, right?"

"I do. I know that." Quentin said, and this time he did move, pulling away slightly so he could shift on the bed and back to the pillow so he could look at Eliot.

Eliot, for his part, also moved. Their legs were still tanged together, their arms still round each other's waist, still close, but now they could look into each other's eyes too. The position was somehow more intimate than when they had been pressed closer together. Now they could see each other's soul through their eyes, and it was a depth of both physical _and_ emotional intimacy that neither of the men wanted to take for granted.

"I'm—"Quentin said, frustrated with himself for not being able to get the words out.

"It's okay Q. You don't have to—" Eliot hastened to reassure his lover, not wanting to push, but not wanting Quentin to push _himself_ unless necessary. He could help him, save him from himself if needed, and he knew he always would.

"No," Quentin continued, "no, I want to. I'm just not quite sure how to say it."

Eliot waited, patiently stroking his hand absently up and down Quentin's side.

"I'm…I'm just really happy…with you, with us, and that's…that's kind of too much for me sometimes." Quentin said quietly, searching Eliot's eyes, hoping he would understand immediately, and he wouldn't have to try and get his jumbled thoughts in order.

"Too much?" Eliot asked, a hint of confusion colouring his expressive brown eyes.

Quentin sighed, closing his eyes for a second so that he could gather his thoughts, because even he wasn't sure how he was going to explain this to his boyfriend.

"It's like…this is so good, and I'm so happy, and I'm so pleased we found each other, but _how_?" Quentin said, slightly exasperated.

"Well you turned up at Brakebills and—" Eliot said, smiling in that enigmatic way that made Quentin fall in love all over again.

Quentin couldn't help the quick huff of laughter that burst out of him at that. The soft chuckle somehow enforcing the truly surreal nature of him having this man in his bed.

"I know, but like…why _me_?" Quentin said, fixing his eyes to Eliot's shoulder instead of into his eyes, the raw love in there too much to handle right then.

Eliot smiled, lifting his hand to bop Quentin softly on the nose with one finger, getting him to look at him again.

Quentin allowed his eyes to come back to Eliot's face, surprised by the endearing action.

"Are you asking why I love you?" Eliot said softly.

"No, I'm just…I don't know. Maybe?" Quentin finished, because that wasn't _quite_ it, but it would do as a start.

"I love you, Quentin Coldwater, because you are brave, and smart, and funny, and honest. I love you because you have this way about you that makes people want to open up. I love you because even after everything we've had to deal with, you still believe in magic, and that's magi _cal_." He paused for effect, his own eyes glistening slightly with unshed tears, because how could this wonderful, broken man not know how fantastic he was?

That was the rub though wasn't it? _He didn't_. Perhaps he didn't tell the man often enough? He vowed to do more to tell him more, every day.

"And I love you because you do that thing with your tongue that is just… _perfection_." Eliot finished, dropping a wink at the end, causing Quentin to let out a watery laugh. His smile dropped after that though, even if he did _really_ like doing that thing with his tongue. Eliot's cock really was something to behold and having it there, the soft weight resting in his mouth and bringing it to hardness was one of his favourite things. Choking as it got bigger, almost too much for him to handle until he'd learned to deep throat. The whole relationship was so—

"I just can't believe this is real." He whispered after another pause. "You know a bit about my past, you know I've…attempted several times?"

Eliot sucked in a harsh breath at that.

He _had_ known, Quentin had told him years ago, after he was nearly kicked out of Brakebills, told him he wouldn't survive out in the real world after knowing magic was real, but hearing it now, years later…hearing that it was possible, that there was a timeline out there where Quentin Coldwater didn't exist in this world was almost too much to bear.

"I do." He finally said, not knowing what else to say.

Quentin nodded, meeting his eyes again.

"It was…I'm not even really sure how to explain it to you. I kind of don't regret how I felt back then because I can sort of see how far I've come." Quentin said, searching Eliot's eyes for any hint of judgement in them, and seeing nothing but support reflected back. He reflexively squeezed Eliot in response, snuggling in closer, but not so close that they couldn't look at each other.

Eliot stopped stroking his hand up and down Quentin's side and instead pulled him closer as well, supporting as much of Quentin as he could, skin to skin.

"You have come a long way from that." He said cautiously.

"I have," Quentin said, and Eliot waited for the other shoe to drop, "and I haven't."

"What do you mean?" Eliot asked, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"I still think about it sometimes." Quentin replied.

Eliot stilled, not even sure he was breathing for a second, because _that_ was new information to have.

"You do?" He said when he could find his voice.

"Sometimes." Quentin replied quietly, pulling Eliot close for a second then pulling away again so he could see him properly. "I mean I'm not hording pills or stocking up on knives or—" well _fuck_ he hadn't meant to say _that_.

" _Fuck_. I'm sorry I'm not explaining this right." He swiftly carried on. "I'm not…I don't want you to worry about me. I'm not going to…this isn't what this is. I'm not telling you I'm suicidal I'm just trying to—God what am I even trying to say?" He said in exasperation. He wished he was standing, wished he could pace to get out the nervous energy that was building. Instead he pulled away from Eliot and flopped onto his back, running his hand through his too-long hair.

"Q—" Eliot started.

"No, I'm okay. I'm just—" He gave up lying down and instead pushed himself up to sit and lean against the headboard instead.

Eliot followed the movement, pulling the blankets up so they were still tucked around their laps, giving them a modicum of modesty. This didn't seem like a conversation to have completely naked, not when the feelings involved would flay them naked as well. He took Quentin's left hand in his, and was relieved when his loved linked their fingers together, even as he yanked on his hair with his other hand.

"I used to punch walls sometimes." Quentin finally said. "Not hard enough to break my hand, but hard enough that it hurt…and it hurt like a motherfucker. Sometimes I was so swollen I was surprised that nobody noticed. I got really good at hiding it, I guess? It helped. Like, I could punch something, and all the feelings disappeared for a bit, my body was concentrating on the physical pain and not the mental one. It was good."

"Do you—" Eliot couldn't finish the question, because if the answer was 'yes' he would be devasted. If Quentin was still going through this and he had been too self-involved to notice, he would never forgive himself.

Quentin turned so he was perpendicular to Eliot, pulling up his legs in order to cross them, their hands still clasped together.

Eliot mirrored the action, and found Quentin reaching for his other hand once he had, joining them together like kids who were about to tell friendship secrets. Which, he supposed, they were. It made him smile slightly looking down at where they were joined. He looked back up in time to see Quentin widen his eyes in shock, then squeeze his hands, hard.

"No! No, no, no. That's not what I'm saying. I'm not telling you I still do it, I'm trying to explain in a way that would make sense." He paused. "Things were so dark before Brakebills, and they're still dark here sometimes." He laughed derisively, thinking of all the things that had gone wrong since he had been enrolled at the school. "I still think about it, I still get urges sometimes, but I don't do it anymore…and part of the reason for that is you."

"Me?" Eliot said quietly, not wanting to break the spell they seemed to be casting.

"Yeah you." Quentin said, smiling and squeezing Eliot's hands again. "You make me so happy, and sometimes I don't know what to do with that. It's—" He frowned, trying to work out how to say it. "It's like I've been allowed to have this amazing prize in life. But it's something I wasn't expecting, and something I wasn't looking for. It's something that I have received, and something I want to hold onto. It's something I love and I'm…I'm so fucking scared I'm going to do something to fuck it up."

"Q—" Eliot said again, wanting to convey in that simple word all the feelings he had for the other man, every deep and abiding thought he had in the love that had picked him up, swept him off, and surprised him all at the same time.

"No, no, I know. I know I can't know that. I know that you can never truly know that. You don't know what the future holds. I know that I shouldn't think that, but how the fuck am I this lucky? How can I possibly deser—" He snapped his mouth closed. _Fuck_.

"How do you deserve it?" Eliot prompted gently.

"Yeah." Quentin replied, dropping his gaze to their linked hands.

"Hey." Eliot said softly. "Q, Look at me."

Quentin slowly looked up, watching the way Eliot's deep brown eyes shone with love.

"Okay, this is super hard to explain, and even harder to believe, but I'm going to give it a go. Love isn't about deserving."

Quentin opened his mouth to respond, but Eliot continued on, not wanting Quentin to interrupt the words that were hard for him to say.

"It's something…fuck it's something that I struggle with all the time."

"You do?" Quentin asked, surprised.

Eliot laughed a little self-consciously, letting one of his hands let go of Quentin so he could run his own hand through his hair in a nervous gesture that wasn't missed by his boyfriend.

"Not the self harm stuff. I'm not…I don't…and I don't feel the darkness about attempts anymore, I think." He chuckled. "I think Fillory cured me of that; and you know I've stopped self-medicating too now, I'm not—"

"Hey, you don't have to talk about this if you don't want to." Quentin was quick to reassure. "We…I can take my neuroses and shove them far back down…wouldn't be the first—"

" _Q_ ," Eliot said fondly, "shut up."

Quentin smiled, marvelling at how, even in this deep conversation they were having, his lover could still make him smile. He started to rub small circles in Eliot's knee now that one of his hands was free, squeezing the other joined hand to show that he was here, that he wasn't going anywhere.

"With what I've done? With the things I've experienced? Fuck, all the bad shit I've done to other people? It's…" He ran his hand through his hair again, tugging slightly, the pain focusing his thoughts. "When I was the monster—" He broke off, a barrage of emotions and images crashing across his psyche whenever he poked too closely at that.

"You don't have to—" Quentin said immediately, knowing just how much trauma Eliot still had from that, knowing that he was still working through all the awful things he had done, even knowing he didn't have a choice, couldn't have stopped the powerful entity if he'd tried.

"No, it's not about—" He waved vaguely, encompassing the room but not really knowing where that sentence was even going to go. "When I was the monster, you know how I managed to break through to you that one time, to tell you I was alive?"

"I do." Quentin said. It was the most euphoric and the most horrific moment of this life. Knowing Eliot was alive had made his heart soar, and then made his soul cry. That Eliot was stuck in there was almost too difficult to comprehend.

"All those memories I had to go through, all those things I thought were my worst memory. All of those things I'd done to hurt people…how the fuck do I deserve you when I've done so much harm?" He finished, voicing words he had been trying to push down, words he never thought he would say. Quentin opening up to him had broken that wall down and he almost felt compelled to share now, like they could help to heal each other properly if there was no secrets between them anymore, not even their deepest darkest ones that they only thought of in the dark.

"You have," Quentin started, because capitulating to Eliot right now was not the right way to go about this and he knew it, "but you have also done so much good in this world, and you deserve to be happy. If I…if I make you happy then you deserve that." _Even though I'm not sure **I** do_ went unspoken but not unheard.

"Can you recognise that in yourself?" Eliot asked, not letting Quentin get away with soothing him if he himself was not similarly helped.

"Sometimes." Quentin said. "It's…it's weird. Like logically my brain knows I love you, it knows you love me, but sometimes I can't hear it."

Eliot nodded, dropping his hand and taking Quentin's again, squeezing both of his hands, completing the circuit of their love without realising what he was doing.

"Sometimes it's too surprising and it overwhelms you?" Eliot said, starting to understand. Quentin was feeling almost exactly what he was. They had been suffering in silence and it needed to stop. _Now_.

"Yeah, like earlier, we were snuggling together, we'd just had epic sex, and you were holding me, and I just…I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe I could be so happy, I couldn't believe that I had this. I couldn't believe I was _allowed_ this. It's hard to explain."

"It sounds like we've both been doing a hefty dose of feeling inferior to the other person." Eliot said slowly. "We should stop that."

Quentin laughed then, properly. "You know how?"

"I don't." Eliot said, but then he smiled. "How about we work that out together?"

"Deal."

**Author's Note:**

> Fancy joining a multi-fandom Discord server where you can ~~squee with~~ chat with like minded people? Have I got the place for you!
> 
> Come and join **The Fandom Playhouse**. You don't have to be mad to [join](https://discord.gg/82pvdE39fD), but it does help...


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